See What I've become
by narnianofcairparavel
Summary: 'See what I've become'. Before the Phantom arrives with her mother and Christine, Meg reflects on the events of the past ten years. ONESHOT. Rated 'T' for dark themes.


_**Voir ce que je suis devenu**_

Just a small something that popped randomly into my head. I'm really glad it did because I have had absolutely no inspiration for anything in over a month… I remember promising something Narnia based when I finished 'Separation' and I promise, I do have an idea in my head so if everything works out I should have something started within the next few weeks. Fair warning, this is a difficult year for me as it's my last year before university…I'm very stressed and have a lot of course work which is another reason I'm slightly reluctant to start a fully-fledged 'fic'. This is based on the final few scenes from Andrew Lloyd Webber's '_Love Never Dies_' in particular the events of '_Please, Miss Giry. I want to go back_'. I'm not a big fan of the change in Meg's character or the story of the sequel in general but I thought it might be fun to try and get into her head…Here's goes nothing, I guess.

**Summary:** 'See what I've become'. Before the Phantom arrives with her mother and Christine, Meg reflects on the events of the past ten years.

**Rating**: 'T' for dark themes.

_**L**__ittle Meg Giry_. That is what everyone had called her during her time in Paris. The little dancer in the shadows, off stage smiling with pride as her best friend sang for the crowds at the Opera House. Had she been confused about Christine's suddenly blossoming talent? Of course she had, but she was never jealous. _Never_.

Growing up she had watched as Christine blossomed into the beauty of the two, drawing her mother's attention away as Meg herself remained plain and perhaps too petite even for a dancer in the _corps de ballet_. Had she wondered what it would be like to be considered pretty and elegant? Yes, what self-respecting young girl wouldn't have been? Even so, she was never jealous.

When the Vicomte de Chagny – Raoul- had re-entered Christine's life the year everything changed she had of course wondered why it couldn't be her. Just once, why couldn't someone want Meg rather than Christine? The Vicomte was everything she had ever imagined in her childish dreams of the perfect husband. He was a gentleman, kind, sensitive and perhaps most importantly to Meg, though no one had ever guessed it, attentive. Still, Meg resisted the urge to be jealous of her most fortunate of best friends.

***x***

"Come along, Gustave," she cooed sweetly, trying to coax the boy without force. Even now, after everything she had been through, she really did not want to hurt the child or Christine. She wanted to cause as little pain as possible. "It's almost over now."

"_Please_ Miss Giry. I want to go back." The young boy continued to protest, prying at her cold fingers with his free had as she dragged him along. She never looked over her shoulder, knowing that _he _would be pursuing them, along with Christine and, perhaps, her mother. She had wondered for so long how to get his attention, make him watch. Meg laughed harshly; _well watch me _**now**_._

When Christine was abducted during the performance of the Phantom's Opera, she had been desperate to help. Fighting her mother to try to save her best friend and _sister_. It was not out of vanity and a desire to go on some sort of adventure. She _needed _to save Christine; it was not a choice. Imagining life without her best friend did not bear thinking about. She wasn't to know that Christine would have to make a choice in his lair that would end up shaping both of their lives for so many years. Once she had finally found her way to the bottom of the opera house, to his lair she found Christine and the Vicomte gone. Dead or alive she could not be sure. The only sign that there had ever been anyone there was a discarded porcelain mask. Meg had shuddered when she had picked it up, cradling it reverently in her hands before walking through the lair exploring as many of its secrets as she could uncover before her mother arrived.

Meg had been harshly reprimanded that night, her mother had been livid at her lack of discipline and she was sure she had only been saved from a severe beating by quiet sobbing in the darkness. Yes, it had been him. The Phantom of the Opera. He seemed a broken man as they approached; barely looking up as she carefully approached him. "Monsieur?"

He did not reply, instead choosing to continue to look at the floor, anywhere except for at her.

***x***

"You're hurting me!" Meg turned, smiling as gently as she could manage through the tears that wear beginning to well up in her eyes. Her throat was constricting as she spoke, trying her best to calm him. Over and over she promised that it would all be over soon. The truth of her words stung as she met the all too trusting boy's eyes. They were the eyes of his mother – his all too trusting mother.

As Meg looked into those eyes she remembered what her life had been before her 'little trip' to Coney Island. In a time when she had been too trusting herself. Once upon a time it had seemed an endearing trait in a person. It had only been in the past few years that she had learned how much trouble and pain it could really cause.

***x***

Madame Giry had decided the only plausible course of action was to get him out of Paris. If they could get everyone to believe he was dead then they could ensure he had a new start, somewhere no one knew of him or his past. A fresh start.

They allowed him to stay in his lair for a few weeks. Meg was given the job of taking him food and other amenities while her mother organised safe passage out of Paris for the three of them. Their destination; Coney Island. It was only supposed to be a little trip and yet almost ten years later she was still there. Singing Vaudeville trash for leering men who drank away their money night after night. She danced and sang, desperate for the favour of the man for whom they had done so much.

Coney Island was not as forgiving as her mother had imagined. Every little crumb had to be paid for, no matter the means. It was no American Dream for Meg. As the Phantom set up his business she was forced to help fund it. Her purity and innocence had once been praised by all and yet within the blink of an eye obscenities she did not fully understand were being made about her and hands groped at her body as she sat in her fancy new dressing rooms. Meg had learned the hard way that men were not all like the ones she had encountered in Paris. She knew what she had to do and eventually it became almost second nature; she gave what they would take and took the little money each man left behind. Day after day, night after night they each took away a little piece of her soul that she would never regain.

**XXXX**

**A/N** I know it seems a bit rushed and rather jumbled but I think it's okay? (I'm only really uploading this because I haven't written in ages and Emily told me I should)…Please let me know what you think. I haven't written in a while and feel a little bit rusty in my technique and characterisation. I wanted to make Meg seem a little bit more human and to try to understand what caused such a dramatic character shift between 'Phantom' and Love Never Dies.


End file.
